


Moonstruck

by Abbey Hughes (AHughes)



Category: Original Works
Genre: Alpha - Freeform, Big Bad Wolf - Freeform, Cheesy, Cliche, Cute, F/M, Feminist, Full Moon, Girl Power, Hunter - Freeform, Little Red Riding Hood - Freeform, Love, Love-hate - Freeform, LuNa - Freeform, Moon, Moon Goddess - Freeform, New Writer, Pack, Romance, Shapeshifter, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Werewolf, lgbtq+, mate, neck kisses, pinning, wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHughes/pseuds/Abbey%20Hughes
Summary: A stubborn, broken girl finds out she is soulmates with a rich, sexy werewolf.A draft





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be terrible. Please comment ways for me to improve.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”   
― William Shakespeare

 

Bianca

My eyes flutter open and I scream.

"Wake up, Bianca! It's the Ball! Today is the ball!" My little sister, Demi, is kneeling next to me and lightly shaking me.

I check the time and put my glasses on. "It's also seven in the fucking morning, Dem, let me sleep..." I exaggerate the 'ee', and push her off.

"But you need to wake up! This year, you're finally allowed to find your mate!"

And now I'm awake.

How could I forget about today? About a hundred years or so ago, Mr Huff and Mr Puff (Yes, THE Huff and Puff) were messing around in Huff's father's potion lab, and spilled a whole bottle of a powerful love potion onto a mirror. That mirror became The Mirror of Ebeil, and it showed one's 'soulmate' - someone you can trust, and love, and rely on... All that cliche crap.

From that day forth, every year, the Huff and Puff family have hosted the Bon Amour Ball - great name, right? - where both the werewolves and humans (who are eighteen or over) go to mingle and, at the end of the night, you find your soulmate, who you will live with for the rest of your life.

Except, of course, it's all bullshit.

"Demi, I've told you a thousand times, I --"

"--”Don't want to go because you don't believe that an inanimate object, such as a mirror, can decide your fate," I know! You've only said it for five years now!" The whining girl gets off of the floor, rubbing her arm. "But please, Bianca, just listen. Let's say you don't go, and your soulmate never finds you because you don't believe in love."

I scoff at her. "Of course I believe in love, I just don't think a mirror made hundreds of years ago can decide who I love."

She huffs and dramatically leaves. Rolling my eyes, I lean down to scratch my leg, but something furry growls in protest.  
I scoop up my frosty himalayan cat and hold her close.

"You wouldn't make me go, would you, Peppermint?" She licks my hand, which I assume means yes, and scampers off. Not even my cat can stand being around me.

Apparently, my sister loves me too much to stay mad at me, because she comes crashing in half an hour later, bouncing off of the walls with excitement. Where she stores all her energy, I'll never know.

"Come on, get dressed, you stubborn shit, we're going to the festival!" Demi's favourite part of today is the festival, because of the food and games etc.

So we head out, and she makes a beeline for the 'Howl Low Can You Go?' while I grab us some corn dogs. She talks with some of her friends and I just sit on one of the benches. Demi is only four years younger than me, but I am convinced high school has changed - I was never that popular.

I've never had many friends, if I'm being honest. Hell, I've never had one to begin with, and I've been told I'm too freaky looking or I talk too much about, quote, "Unimportant political opinions stolen off of Tumblr."

But mostly because of what happened five years ago. I shiver at the memory.

A crowd quickly forms around the stage, and a hand suddenly drags me to the front; I would recognise Demi's azure nails anywhere.

"Bianca, hurry! It's Huff and Puff!" Of course, the actual Huff and Puff are dead. Long dead. However, their great-granddaughters are now running the ball - Hunter Huff and Adele Puff.

"Welcome, everybody. We are so glad to see so many of you here." Hunter does the same speech about how the mirror and ball came to be, and how important it was getting a soulmate and all that crap, just like every year. I could probably quote her word for word.

"And now, Adele Puff will now read the names of people attending this year:" The smaller girl sheepishly steps forward holding a tablet and reads each name slowly.

"...Victorie Loon, Chase Loup..." She is cut off by screams of girls in the crowd.

Chase Loup - the most desired man, no, person in Lunemond. He is the alpha of his pack, as well as the owner of the biggest company, Loup Designs. He is rich, attractive, and mysterious - what more could horny teenage girls want?

This year, he is twenty-five, which means this is his fourth time going to the ball. He still hasn't found his mate, and his fan club (Chasing Loup) believe that his mate hasn't gone to the ball yet, and he just needs to wait another six years until they all can go.

Adele continues with the names. "Jason Wade, and finally, Cerise Zaine. Happy Mirror Day, and we hope to see you all again next year!" They hold hands and wave everyone off together.

The crowd dissipates and everyone attending rushes home to get ready. I take in the busy streets and sigh - this could be the last time I see them. I've walked these pavements for so long, I could close my eyes and stride home, naming the shops as I pass.

Candy Crazy, where my mother bought me candy corn when I was sick on Halloween; when I was invited to my first birthday party at ten, my grandmother took me to Taylor's Boutique to get a pretty dress; when my dad let me get my first phone at fourteen at the Junco; and my personal favourite, the store where I bought Demi her first Polaroid.

"Any man will be lucky to have you, baby!" I groan and roll my eyes at the creep. Seriously? I am literally about to go to the gala where I meet my future mate.

The sight of my home, my nostalgic, creamy-beige cottage, makes my knees weak, and Demi senses this because she holds my arm.

My mother rushes out of the door, holding two jewels - moonstone and rose quartz. She runs her own business making jewellery and every Mirror Day, her inbox blows up. Moonstone represents destiny and rose quartz symbolizes love, so figure it out.

"Bianca, hurry in, the ball is in five hours!" She gestures with her head towards the house, while showing Demi - her 'assistant' - the gems. She picks the moonstone.

I am pushed toward my closed bedroom door and my dad finally joins us. Together, the three of them open the door, encouraging me inside, and...

Everything is packed. All my clothes, my school supplies, my belongings. All that remains in this small, warming place is my bare bed, my two trunks, my school bag, and my closet. But my closet has red ribbon trailing out of it and ending at the door.

Cautiously, I amble towards it and fling open the shutters. There, hanging alone, is a gorgeous dress.

The corset is silver and embellished with white sapphires, but the poofy skirt is a minty green. My family leave so I can put it on, and it fits perfectly, although the corset pushes my breasts up to give them the illusion of being bigger. I twirl and giggle as the dress dances around my legs, but am stopped short when I notice my mom with a camera. I nibble on my lower lip and tuck a stray hair behind my ear - something I always do when I'm embarrassed or nervous.

Demi and mom struggle with my hair for a while, but finally settle with a half-up style braid. Because they took so long, it's dinner time, so they leave my makeup until last.

We all sit at our cedar-wood table and enjoy what could be our last meal together, the four of us. We're having my favourite - poutine with medium steak. Not the classiest, but oh well.

"So, Elsa..." My dad breaks the silence, and I can't help but laugh. Ever since Frozen came out six years ago, he has called me Elsa because of my pale skin and white hair, as well as the whole snow thing because my family originally came from Canada, and my arctic-blue eyes definately yell "SNOW QUEEN".

"Yes, Kristoff?" I call him that because his name is Christoffer. It's our thing, but not Demi's - she did not appreciate being called Sven.

"I hear this is Chase Loup's seventh year at the ball. Anyone wanna bet he still doesn't find his soulmate?"

"Sweet Zeus, dad, enough with the soulmates! They aren't real, and it's obvious the mirror is a scheme to repopulate the werewolves. I mean, has no one thought about how humans only get paired with werewolves, but werewolves can be paired with other werewolves?"

And I've done it again. I've made family dinner awkward again.

"I'm...I'm sorry..." I begin helplessly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"You know... I think this is what we're going to miss the most: Our smart, amazing little girl speaking her mind about important things like a... a..."

"A boss!"

"Yes, thank you, Demi, a boss!" Mom pounds her fist onto the table to emphasize her point, and I bite my lip, but still smile.

"Dad, I have a question. Why hasn't Loup found his mate yet?" My father's fork stops halfway to his mouth, and he sets it down on his plate.

"It's a matter of time. The mirror hasn't shown him his mate yet because she hasn't attended the ball at the same time as him."

"Wait, but..." I hold up my index finger. "I'm a little lost here. Has the mirror not shown him his mate?"

"The process is complicated. When you get to the ball, they will make you prick your finger so a drop of your blood can go into the mirror. That way, you will only see your mate if they are at the ball that year." My mother holds my father's hand, and smile happily.

I pray that I won't have a cliche love story, like my parents’; although, their story is sweet. They were best friends, but since my dad was human and my mom was a werewolf, he didn't think he stood a chance. But, surprise, surprise, the mirror said they were soulmates. And now, they have two beautiful daughters.

We finish dinner and I am whisked away to get my makeup done. I don't see the big deal, because I'm just going to wash this crap off, anyway.

After what feels like an eternity, I am allowed to look at my face, which I'm sure looks like a clown. I'm wrong, but at least I look great. I have a silver eyeshadow, to match my dress, with decent wings, a small amount of highlighter on my cheeks, and a nudish-pink matte lipstick. I put in my contacts and place my round-rimmed glasses in a pocket on my dress.

It is 8,30 by the time they are finished, and I'm about to head out the door to the limosine my uncle hired us, when I realise I'm barefoot.

"Maybe if you spent less time with which shade of lipstick I should wear, you would have remembered I needed shoes to--"

"Dance! You don't know how to dance! Oh... This is going to be a disaster..." Demi starts freaking out about how no one will want to be my mate if I can't dance etc. so my mom brings out her best shoes - a pair of strappy silver heels. No time to see if I can walk in them I guess...

We all rush into the limo. Mom gets out her camera, while Demi dives for the chocolate, and I can't help but laugh at my dad, who is trying to contain my ape of a sister. I rest my cheek on the car door and watch the trees go by. I'm going to miss my family, that is, of course, if I find my mate.

Or he finds me.

It's 8,57 when we arrive. Mom takes a dozen or so hundred photos when the limo honks at them to leave, and I confidently l stride to the large doors. As told, Hunter takes my right hand, pricks my finger with a needle, and lets the blood drop onto the mirror Adele is holding.

I go in and am not surprised to see a colony of girls from my university - Maria, Zoe, Dawn, Chloe, Heather, Vanessa and Naomi - squeal as they meet.

"Omigod, your hair!"

"Your nails are so cute!"

"You copied my dress!"

"I bet you I'm going to be Chase's mate."

"I bet you can't even dance with him."

All seven of them are wearing red dresses, a common thing girls like to do because of Red Riding Hood. Actually, as I look around, I think I could be the only one not wearing red - even the boys have red ties or jackets. Where were the werewolves?

It's exactly nine on-the-dot when they flood in all at once and, just like us, they are mostly wearing the same colour - grey. A couple of werewolves are wearing blue, one or two in black, but otherwise they all look the same.

Hunter and Adele walk onto the stage, one proudly, one shyly, and the room falls silent.

"Welcome, everybody, to the 119th aniversery of the Bon Amour Ball. We are delighted to see new faces...And some old ones..." Hunter winks at Chase and there is sympathetic laughter; I wonder how many times she's said that. I note that he is wearing a raven suit with a blood-red tie, which is bizarre because it's mostly humans who wear red.

"You have two hours here to meet new people, socialise and dance, and if you meet someone you feel really close to, then the mirror may be in your favour. Well, I think I've wasted enough of your time, so go and enjoy your night!" Again, Adele and Hunter join hands, and I take in their beautiful dresses - Adele has a floor-length yellow gown, and Hunter is wearing an elegant white dress, and it almost looks like a wedding dress.

Soon we'll all be married.

The females immediately circle Chase like bait, and I go over to the snack table. I pick up a jug of pink liquid - I think it's a strawberry cocktail or something - and get a champagne flute. It's so fancy here.

Someone clears their throat behind me. "Would you mind pouring me a drink?"

Pouring my own drink, I scoff. "Does this dress look like a maid's outfit to you?"

"Excuse me?" The voice is deep and husky. I roll my eyes, finish pouring my drink, and turn around.

"I said - "Does this dress look like a maid's outfit to you?"" I look up at the tall figure behind me and my breath hitches in my throat.

His jacket is coal-black, like his trousers and shiny Oxfords, his waistcoat is pewter, and his button down shirt is white - all I can think about is how this guy is 50 Shades of Grey. His tie stands out, like a rose amongst thorns.

His flint eyes seem empty, yet they stare intentsly into mine. I wouldn't forget a face like his.

**Not spellchecked**


	2. Chapter Two (Unedited)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bianca goes to the ball

His flint eyes seem empty, yet they stare intentsly into mine. I wouldn't forget a face like his.

This is it, I think, this is the moment I die. This man standing so tall in front of me is more than capable of ripping me apart. Although...  
I want to move, run away so I can keep my life. But his eyes, shining with hope, are locked onto mine and his gaze holds me captive. Maybe it's a werewolf thing?

He advances towards me, and his eyes suddenly seem softer.

"What's your name?" He inquires it so casually, it catches me off guard. My name is the last thing I expected him to ask, the first being 'Who are you to speak to me like that?'

"I- What?"

"Ignore her. Trust me, you don't want to be talking to someone like her." My vision is covered by ash-blonde hair, so I step aside; it's the Queen Bitch herself, Chloe. She smiles sweetly at the man she's obssessed with, and she looks like a poisonous berry desguised as a strawberry. Her unnaturally lapis eyes twinkling with mischief, and her carefully applied ruby lipstick curves into a smirk.

"I'm Chloe Valentine, and I'm told my name suits me well." She winks, making me internally gag. "Of course, I know who you are. You're...Chase Loup!" She has to use her hand to cover her mouth because she is smiling too much.

So, I was correct afterall.

"Oh, hey, Chloe! That dress looks amazing on you. It really shows off your implants." I articulate sarcastically.

She whirls around to face me, consequently whipping Chase in the face with her hair. "These are real!" She turns back to Chase, delicately placing a hand on her chest, just above her silicone breasts. "You can feels them to make sure if you'd like..." 

He blushes a deep garnet, blubbering like a baboon. "N-no, thank you. Thank you for the... Offer...?"

Chloe's head turns to face me so quickly, I think she breaks her neck. She glares at me, with bullets and fire in her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I put my hand over my mouth and pretend to gasp. "Was I not suppose to say that"

"No, you weren't. There are lots of things you aren't suppose to do, Luxure. Does seventh grade ring a bell?" She puts a hand on her hip and cackles like the witch she is. My defenses go down, and I hardly think when the words come out of my mouth:   
"I hope you choke on all that shit you talk!"

Chase presses his lips into a fine line to stifle his laughter, and Chloe's eyes widen, giving herself the 'How dare you!?" face. Her arm lifts, and I can tell she's about to slap me, so I brace myself. A hand suddenly catched her wrist, and her face falls. We both look over at the beautiful man, who's face is set and dark.  
Chloe, however, takes advantage of this. Effortlessly, she slides her hand down so she is holding hands with Chase, and moves her body closer to him.

"Would you care for a dance, Chase?" She bats her false lashes - is any part of her real? - and places a hand on his shoulder.

"No, thank you, Miss Valentine."

"Are you sure? Because --" She moves closer towards him, and I can see the discomfort on his face, so I cut her off.

"Good night, Chloe."

She turns to face me, sneering like I was a stain on her Valentino white bag. But I remain tight-lipped.

"What did you say?" Her grip on Chase loosens, and when I distract her, Chase manages to escape her grasp. 

"Let me dumb it down for you. Fuck. Off." I emphasize the last two words, just to get it through her microscopic brain. This time, she raises her chin (A little too high, may I add) and struts away, swinging her arms dramatically. Relieved, I exhale, and face the table filled with tarts, puddings, cakes, biscuits...

The feeling of someone stepping closer to me pulls me out my thoughts. I turn around again, and Chase is standing with his chest puffed out, and arms clutched behind him - the Alpha's way of showing dominance. Now that I can see him up close, I admire his perfectly-cut jaw, which has a beard growing, but not the bushy ugly kind - the attractive, ruggish kind. His hair, a incredible dark brown (Some may say black), is short and styled in a delicate quiff.

"Are you just going to stand there blocking the way..." He takes another step closer, and another, until we are inches apart. I mimick his gesture, puffing my chest out, but the sudden movement causes him to break this awkward eye contact and peek down. Good, I say to my internal self, let him stare!

Shaking his head, clearing his throat, his eyes shoot back up to my icy ones. "...Or will you pour me a drink?"

I roll my eyes and move out of the way as he pours himself a glass of the pink liquid - which I discover is strawberry champagne - and leans against the table, his eyes trained on me.

"So, why didn't 'Mr. Lover-Boy' want to dance with Miss Valentine?" I cross my arms and cock my eyebrow.

He finishes his drink (Note to self: only fill glass half-way, for some reason) before addressing me: "Easy. I wanted to dance with someone else."

"Then go, I'm sure any girl would just-" I clutch my hands over my heart and make my voice go higher, "-Love to dance with Chase Loup!" He chuckles, and I do too. But he doesn't move, and it dawns on me.

"Wait... Me?" He nods, and I shake my head violently. "No, sorry, Loup, I don't dance."

"Don't, or won't?"

"Don't. Now go and chase some other girl. Hey, see what I did there? Chase?" I laugh, but his raised eyebrow and chuckle makes me stop.

Surprisingly, he leaves. And then I was alone. Great, I scare everyone away. I scan the snacks, settle for a strawberry tart and walk around. I find a deserted corner and sit on the marble bench, observing the people dance, occasiionally tap my feet along to the music, and catch Chase obviously staring at me.

How does this mirror thing work, anyway? My inner thoughts have gotten pretty bored. What time is it? Is it like the mirror from Beauty and The Beast? "Show me my mate!" Imagine the poor soul who gets Chloe! I bet it's gonna be Chase...

"Hey, baby. You look beautiful sat here alone, but you'd look more beautiful dancing with me." I gag at the cheesyness of that line, and look up to see a hairy man, maybe in his late twenties, winking at me. He sits down next to me, his leg trying to play with mine. I suddenly recognize him as the man who catcalled me on my way home earlier.

"The name's Scott. Lloyd Scott."

"You have a old man's name."

"Well, I am the oldest here. I like a girl with a sense of humor..." He puts an arm around me, and I jerk my shoulder back. 

"Get the fuck off me!"

"That's not what you'll be saying next week, darlin'. I'm a man in the streets, but a beast in the-"

A slap across his face stops him so he doesn't finish his sentence, and his eyes widen as he clutches and cradles his cheek like a toddler.

"Did you just slap me?"

"If you don't remember, I can do it a second time." I crack my knuckles, but regret it, because he stands up and pulls me up by my elbow. 

He is interupted by a loud, deep "Hey!". My eyes dart to the man stomping towards Grandpa, and I can't help the groan that escapes my throat as I realise it's Chase.

"She told you to get off her." He looms menacingly over Lloyd, and he releases his grip on my arm.

"Ohh... Are you two... Together?" His eyes crease and he begins to laugh like a fucking madman.

At the same time I say "No!", Chase growls a "Yes.". I shoot him a look, and Lloyd laughs even louder. What did he mean 'yes'?

"Well, Loup, if you're having lady problems, I'll happily take her off your hands..." 

He doesn't finish that sentence either. Chase's eyes burn red, as he grabs Lloyd's collar, pulls him away from me, and punches his square in the nose. He falls to the floor, moaning, and I stand there, helpless, wide-eyed, as a crowd begins to form around us. The rumours immediately start flying 

"Let's go..." Chase reaches for my wrist, softly, and drags me through the crowd. It takes me a minute to snap out of my daze.

"Excuse me? You just punched a guy for trying to grab me, what makes you think you have the right?" I snatch my arm away, and internally enjoy the look of disbelief on his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face. He's definately taken a blow to his ego.

"I would punch every man in this room for you..." He mutters softly, his dove eyes studying mine so intensly, he seems lost at sea. I am a little stunned at first - that was smoother than a jar of Jif, but what if it's just one of his ways of getting girls into his bed? It's a well known fact that he is a bit of a, well, a manwhore.

"Wow. You really had me there for a second." I cross my arms and glare at him. "I bet you've used that line on other girls though, along with "I've lost my teddy bear; can I sleep with you?" and "Can I tie your laces? I can't have you falling for anyone else."" 

He returns the glare, and mimicks my gesture. "Did it hurt?"

He's seriously trying another pickup line? I decide to play along, to try and see where he is heading with this...  
"Did what hurt?" I say it sweetly, batting my eyelashes innocently.

"When you crawled out of Hell." Chase's eyes flash a dangerous, daring deep garnet. If I remember what my mother taught me about Alphas right, then that means he is angry. But why? I know I can be vexing, but I haven't even gotten started yet.

I shrug, refusing to let him win. "I've got a scar on my right leg, but that's about it, really." I wasn't even lying, because Hell leaves scars.

He narrows his scarlet orbs at me, dissatisfied with my bold answer. Without realising it, the two of us ended up in the middle of a crowd, and I felt heat go to my cheeks. Chase must have noticed, too, because his face was almost as red as his tie.

"Okay," He hisses under his breath so only I could hear. "Now you've gotten the attention you wanted, can we go?" He extends his hand, stern. How can someone have such a fierce look, yet still be handsome?

But I refuse to be like one of his fangirls, obsessing over his every action. 

I take his hand, admiring how my hand is sigificantly smaller than his, and let him lead me. Only, to my dismay, he heads towards the main dancing area. That sneaky bastard!

"Seriously? So you rescue a poor helpless damsel-in-distress... just so you can get your dance? You know, you're even worse than Scott!"

The song, which I recogise as Ed Sheeran's 'Perfect', ends, and Huff and Puff take the stage once more. Has it been two hours already?

Chase studies my face, and I can't quite disipher his expression. Finally, his eyes fade to empty stones, and he speaks. "Good night, Miss... Luxure, was it?"

He turns on his heel and marches away like a proud peacock, and I just watch his back disappear into the crowd with a scoff. 

"Could we have everyone's attention, please? We hope you have enjoyed your evening, but now we must cut it short..." Hunter carefully steps onto the platform, her arm linked with Adele's, and a wave of silence goes over the audience. 

"..Because now, it is time for the very anticiated event: The Mirror of Ebeil!" 

The crowd cheers, and every pair of eyes are on Adele as she pulls something out of her bag: with golden ivy on the equally gorgeous frame, the mirror could stun a bull. The glass even had a rose hue. Yet, I couldn't help but notice one face stray from the sight -  
And glare at me. Chase.

I return his glare, and his eyes widen, like he didn't expect me to notice. Oh, but I did, a taunting voice wanted to say to him.

One by one, Huff and Puff called each person up in alphabetical order. When people called their mate's up, they would either propose right there, kiss or hug for a while, or sometimes cry and say things like "I can't believe it!" or "I've always knew it would be us!"

I wait patiently for my name, and I realise Loup comes before mine. When he is called up, everyone yells "SHH!", and Chloe screams at him. It's hilarious.

He struts onto the platform, puffing his chest out again, and shows his pearly whites to the front row - someone faints.  
Clearing his throat, Chase confidently holds up the mirror to his face and, clear as day, states his name.

Everyone holds their breath, and I have to stop myself from laughing at everyone's fish faces. But seconds pass.   
Chase's crestfallen face is quickly replaced with a cool, calm face.  
"Ah, well, I suppose I'll see you next year. But good luck to-" He freezes midsentence, and the audience bursts with commotion. 

Chase's eyes light up (mostly just refelcting the glowing glass) and his face splits into a foolish grin.

"Bianca Luxure." I feel a knot in my stomach as he locks eyes with me.

(unedited)


End file.
